The Courage of Cowards

The Untold Stories of the First World War Conscientious Objectors

Karyn Burnham

• Publisher: Pen & Sword Military
• Year: 2014
• Print ISBN: 9781781592953
• eBook ISBN: 9781473834996
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Military Biographies
• Index: History

To many they were nothing more than cowards, but the 'conchies' of the First World War had the courage to stand by their principles when the nation was against them... An innovative new history of conscientious objectors during the First World War. Drawing on previously unpublished archive material, Karyn Burnham reconstructs the personal stories of several men who refused to fight, bringing the reader face-to-face with their varied, often brutal, experiences.Charles Dingle: Defying his father's wishes by objecting to military service, Charles joins the Friends Ambulance Unit and finds himself in the midst of some of the fiercest fighting of the war.Jack Foister: Jack, a young student, cannot support the war in any way. Imprisoned and shipped secretly out to France, Jack has no idea what lengths the military will go to in order to break him.James Landers: A Christian and pacifist, James faces a dilemma: if he sticks to his principles, he faces imprisonment but if he joins the Non Combatant Corps he can financially support his family. Gripping accounts reveal the traumatic and sometimes terrifying events these men went through and help readers to discover what it was really like to be a conscientious objector.As seen in the Northern Echo, Ilkley Gazette, Ripon Gazette, Wetherby News, Kent & Sussex Courier and Bradford Telegraph & Argus. Also seen in Essence and Discover Your History magazines.

CHAPTER 1

THE OUTBREAK OF WAR

We are muddled into war.

(David Lloyd George)

When war broke out in the summer of 1914, it had not been long in the planning. Europe may have been a simmering pressure cooker of conflicting imperial agendas, but there was no lengthy political preamble; no bold declarations of intent or threats of invasion were made. When the spectre of war began to glare across the continent, it wasn’t the result of cold, calculated strategy by any particular country. The catastrophe that was the First World War happened suddenly, unexpectedly, almost accidentally. War took hold of Europe while most people on the continent were enjoying their summer holidays.

When Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, decided to make an official visit to Sarajevo, Bosnia at the end of June 1914, he had no idea of the extraordinary chain of events that would follow. Bosnia was part of the Austro-Hungarian empire and this inevitably caused political tensions with those who wanted to see Bosnia governed by Serbia. A group of students, supported by the nationalistic terrorist group The Black Hand, organised a protest against Austrian occupation and planned to attack the Archduke’s entourage as it toured Sarajevo. One of these students, Gavrilo Princip, was successful in his attempt, assassinating both the Archduke and his wife as they travelled through the streets in their open-topped car.

The Austro-Hungarian empire couldn’t let the assassination of its heir pass without action, but didn’t have either the army or the political leverage to take on Serbia alone. Instead, they turned to their old ally Germany for support and in the weeks that followed the Archduke’s assassination, alliances were drawn, ultimatums were issued and brinkmanship was pushed to the limit. On 28 July, just one month after the assassination, Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia prompting her ally Russia to mobilise troops, which in turn led Germany to declare war on Russia. By 1 August, Serbia and Austria were all but forgotten as the two mighty empires of Germany and Russia prepared for war.

Although Britain watched the escalating aggression with suspicion, wary of Germany’s imperial might, the British Government was keen to reassure the public that it was under no obligation to engage in a European conflict. As of 1 August 1914, Britain had no intention of becoming embroiled in a war. On 3 August however, Germany declared war on France and mobilised troops to attack France’s poorly defended borders with Belgium. This single action changed Britain’s attitude to the conflict in Europe. Belgium was a neutral country and the ports of Ostend and Zeebrugge were vital for Britain’s continental trade. Belgium’s neutrality was protected by the 1839 Treaty of London, which stated that the ‘guarantor countries [of which Britain was one] had the right to intervene in order to defend the neutrality of Belgium’. The Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey, sent an ultimatum to the German Government to withdraw its troops from Belgium immediately or face a declaration of war from Britain.

Germany did not withdraw from Belgium and on 4 August 1914 Britain went to war with Germany to ‘fulfil her obligations to Belgium and in defence of the rights of small nations’.

If the British Government was to declare war today, or announce the country’s involvement in a conflict, our reaction as a nation may be mixed, but there would certainly be an overwhelming sense of apprehension for the future. Although there may be groups who feel that war is justified and unavoidable, for the majority a declaration of war is the worst possible news. It seems incredible, as a modern Briton, to consider the largely positive reaction to the declaration of war on 4 August 1914.

In response to Britain’s ultimatum to Germany, excitement swept through the country and crowds gathered on the streets of London. As the evening wore on, crowds increased until Trafalgar Square, Parliament Square and Whitehall were a crush of bodies. The Daily Mirror reported that the King, Queen, Prince of Wales and Princess Mary had appeared on the balcony of Buckingham Palace at 8pm to the ‘wild, enthusiastic cheers’ of a ‘record crowd’. As the 11pm deadline for Germany’s response approached the crowds grew quiet, waiting for the chimes of Big Ben before erupting into cheering and shouting which, according to The Times, ‘echoed…for nearly twenty minutes’ before the King re-appeared on the balcony and the crowd began to sing the National Anthem.

This reaction was repeated throughout the country; factories sounded their sirens to inform workers that the country was at war and word was communicated to feverish gatherings in public places. Today, we associate scenes like this with events of national celebration, like a royal wedding or jubilee, never with something as malevolent as war. But then, people had no idea just how malevolent or long-lasting this new war was going to be. In August 1914, the war still seemed righteous, glamorous even. Britain was defending ‘little Belgium’ against the mighty imperial aggression of Germany. It seemed the honourable and morally right thing to do, to fulfil one’s obligations, to help a friend in need.

During those early days of war, the newspapers adopted a largely patriotic stance. The Daily Mirror exclaimed: ‘We could not stand aside! Britain will not allow Germany’s fleet to batter France’s undefended coast’, and the Daily Express ran with the headline: ‘England expects that every man will do his duty’. Even so, there were some dissenting voices: the Manchester Guardian warned that Britain faced ‘the greatest calamity that anyone living has ever known’, while the Daily Herald, under the editorship of prominent socialist George Lansbury, took an outright anti-war approach, running with headlines such as ‘War is Hell’.

In the years prior to 1914, there had been a burgeoning pacifist movement supported by the likes of the Independent Labour Party and the Trades Union Congress. On 2 August, a large peace demonstration took place in Trafalgar Square, addressed by Keir Hardy and George Lansbury among others. The gathered crowds wholeheartedly backed calls for Britain to stay out of the escalating hostilities in Europe. Two days later, with Britain committed to war, support for pacifism dwindled overnight and both the TUC and the Labour Party switched allegiance to support the government. Pacifism in Britain had been tolerated prior to the war, but from August 1914 it fast became seen as unpatriotic. The Daily Herald maintained its anti-war stance, despite plummeting sales and several of its contributors being imprisoned later in the war as conscientious objectors.

In practical terms, Britain was not prepared for war at such short notice. The British Army was comparatively small – one tenth the size of the German Army – so a massive injection of recruits was needed and quickly. The surge of patriotic fervour, the popular belief that it ‘would all be over by Christmas’ and, perhaps, a boyish desire for adventure prompted men to flock in their thousands to recruiting stations. In the first week of the war, 8,193 men joined up; 43,354 in the second, 63,000 in the third and an incredible 174,901 in the fourth week alone. Before the war was even one month old, almost 300,000 men had volunteered to fight for King and country. Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener believed that the war would last at least three years and was well aware that many more men would be needed. In the first week of September he began a recruitment campaign and by the end of the month the number of new recruits had risen to over 750,000.

Conscription wasn’t introduced until 1916, so in those early stages of the war, no man was legally obliged to join up. Anyone joining the army did so voluntarily and it was the job of the recruitment campaign to persuade, cajole and coerce men into ‘doing their bit’. Posters began to appear across the country, adorning walls, bulletin boards and hoardings with messages ranging from the direct (Kitchener’s famous ‘Your Country Needs You’) to phrases which subtly pricked the conscience of any man not in uniform (‘Surely you will fight for your King and Country? Come along boys, before it’s too late’) and the downright accusatory (John Bull pointing at the viewer, standing in front of a row of soldiers with gaps in the ranks asking – ‘Who’s absent? Is it you?’).

CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTORS IN WAITING

Until the introduction of the Military Service Act in January 1916, a man who objected to the war for any reason didn’t have to do battle with the authorities because of his beliefs, he simply did not volunteer for the army. There may still have been a great deal of insidious social pressure and propaganda aimed at him but, fundamentally, he was free to live according to his conscience. Interestingly though, not all men who went on to become conscientious objectors felt that way at the beginning of the war.

Jack Foister was a 21-year-old student at Cambridge University when the war began. His father, a boat builder at Pembroke College, was a Congregationalist and his mother was Church of England, so Jack had had a strict Protestant upbringing yet oddly, this had left him free from any deep sense of faith. He attended church as and when he was supposed to, but that habit began to slip while he was at university. On the surface, Jack Foister was an easy-going young man with a mischievous sense of humour which made him popular with his peers.

A firm socialist, Jack could trace his political stance back to a specific event in his teenage years. He remembered reading the newspapers, aged about 15 or 16, and following with interest the reforms that the Liberal Chancellor of the Exchequer David Lloyd George was trying to pass through Parliament. Lloyd George had eventually introduced a whole host of welfare reforms, including pensions for the elderly, free school meals and state financial support for those unable to work. These reforms were to be funded by the ‘People’s Budget’ of 1909, which increased taxes on the wealthy, although it met with heavy opposition from the Conservatives and was voted down in the House of Lords. Fired up by the seeming injustice of the Conservative Party’s attitude, Jack attended a course on the history of socialism and the Labour Party run by prominent socialist Clifford Allen.

In August 1914 however, Jack was as wrapped up in the patriotic excitement as everyone else during the early days and he came very close to volunteering. It happened in the local park on a Sunday afternoon; as the warmth of the summer wore on, Jack sat on the grass with his friends Ernest and Tom, both of whom were fresh from the local recruiting office.

“I can’t wait to get out there!” Tom said, rubbing his hands together with alacrity. “Help teach the Hun a lesson or two about bullying”.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” Ernest asked, squinting at Jack against the sun.

“Not yet”. Jack replied. “I’ve only got a year left at Cambridge, seems foolish to give up on my studies now when I’ve worked so hard”.

“A year?!” Ernest said. “But it’ll be all over by then. You’ll miss it”.

“Why pass up on the chance of adventure for the sake of your studies?” Tom chipped in. “It’s something to tell your grandchildren, how you helped stop the Hun from taking over Europe. What were your plans for after university? Civil Service wasn’t it? Not much opportunity for adventure then is there?”

“Well, I was thinking of the Indian Civil Service actually. Quite a bit of adventure to be had in India I would have thought”. Jack said, a little defensively, and his friends laughed.

“But it’s still the Civil Service!” Tom said. “Look, the war’ll be over in no time, then you can go back to your studies and pick up where you left off. Cambridge’ll still be there, it won’t go anywhere while you’re away”.

“Well, it might if the Germans invade”. Ernest said jokingly. “German scholars everywhere and no room for Jack. We have to stop them Jack, we simply have to!” Ernest exclaimed in a fine show of melodrama, clasping his hands together in a mock plea. The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar vein, with the band playing patriotic tunes and men in new military uniforms spending final hours with families or sweethearts, until Jack was convinced that he would indeed be foolish to miss such an opportunity and walked home with a spring of determination.

He found his parents in the front parlour; his father sucking on his pipe, engrossed in a book and his mother concentrating on a crossword in the newspaper.

“That was good timing Jack, I’ve just brewed some tea”. His mother said, laying the paper aside and heading to the kitchen. In his enthusiasm, Jack didn’t think to close the door after her before speaking to his father.

“I’ve come to a decision father, I’ve decided to enlist”, he announced. There was an almighty clatter from the kitchen as his mother dropped a pan. The two men looked at one another and Jack’s father shut the door before responding quietly.

“What’s brought this on?”

“I’ve been in the park with Tom and Ernest; they’ve enlisted and almost every other man in the park was in uniform. It’d be wrong not to go and do my bit too”.

After a thoughtful pause, Jack’s father responded. “That’s very laudable son; I’m proud of you”. He patted Jack fondly on the back. “But what’s the hurry? You only have a year left at Cambridge; well less than a year actually. Why not finish your studies and join up then?”

“Because it’ll all be over by then. Everyone says so”.

“I happen to think ‘everyone’ is wrong”, his father said, shaking his head. “All this ‘it’ll be over by Christmas’ nonsense is just bravado. There are too many countries involved, too many conflicting agendas. I think the war will still be raging away when you’ve finished your exams next year. And besides”, he tapped out his pipe into the grate, “I’m in the Territorials and bound to get called up; your brother is likely to go soon too. Your mother can’t stand losing everyone at once, she needs to know one of us is safe eh?”

So, after some thought, Jack Foister decided to continue at Cambridge and, assuming the war hadn’t ended by then, he would join up after his final exams.

David Blelloch was 19 when war was declared and preparing to go to Oxford when the new academic year started in September. Despite winning a scholarship to St John’s College in 1913, he had been unable to take up his place the previous year after contracting typhoid fever and taking almost eight months to recover. Like Jack Foister, David was a socialist and could also trace his political views to Lloyd George’s welfare reforms and the ‘People’s Budget’. He recalls being shocked by attacks on Lloyd George in The Daily Mail, which had argued that giving money to the aged and infirm would divert valuable funding from the navy and therefore weaken Britain’s ability to defend herself. The Mail demanded to be told whether Britain would ‘surrender her maritime supremacy to provide old age pensions’. David remembered thinking: ‘If that’s Conservatism, I want nothing to do with it’.

David took an avid interest in the news, just like most people at that time; he read the newspapers voraciously and formed his own opinions about the war. He wasn’t taken in by the propaganda or the call to arms, nor did he feel a particular swell of patriotism for King and country. He did, however, see that Germany and Austria were the aggressors in this conflict and came to the decision to apply for a commission in the army, rather than take up his place at Oxford. When he broke this news to his mother, there was a long silence. Mrs Blelloch bit her lip, trying to hold back the torrent of words that threatened to spill out and which she knew would do no good. Her son was a curly-haired, boyish youth who looked more like 16 than 19 and she had a habit of talking to him as though he were still a boy instead of the man he almost was.

“I don’t think you are well enough to join the army”, she said eventually.

“Pardon?” Of all the reactions he had expected from her, that was one he hadn’t anticipated.

“You’ve barely recovered from the typhoid, you’re not up to full strength yet, not by a long way”.

“Nonsense!” he laughed. “I’ve never felt fitter!” Which wasn’t strictly true.

“You may feel fit, but you’re not”. David began to shake his head. “I’m serious...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Acknowledgements
• Contents
• Introduction
• Chapter 1: The Outbreak of War
• Chapter 2: The Beginning of Conscience
• Chapter 3: The Military Service Act
• Chapter 4: The Friends Ambulance Unit
• Chapter 5: The Non-Combatant Corps & Work Schemes
• Chapter 6: Absolutists – Cowardice & Hypocrisy?
• Chapter 7: Armistice
• Chapter 8: Post-war Conscientious Objection
• Appendices